


Breaking the ice

by Nary



Category: Adventure World (Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, Backstory, Battle, Blood and Injury, Dawning Awareness That This Guy Is Hot, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Military Backstory, Necromancy, Pre-Relationship, Soldiers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: Rufus Metilius Auspex had been stationed with the Third Legion for six months, and in that time he'd seen things he would never have experienced if he'd stayed in the Eternal City.  But it also meant he'd had to deal with the most insufferable, stuck up ass of a tribune he'd ever encountered - Laris Valerius Corvis.





	Breaking the ice

Rufus Metilius Auspex had been stationed with the Third Legion for six months, and in that time he'd seen things he would never have experienced if he'd stayed in the Eternal City. But it also meant he'd had to deal with the most insufferable, stuck up ass of a tribune he'd ever encountered - Laris Valerius Corvis. The shadar kai officer was a senator's son, no more than nineteen, and already in charge of two cohorts! He was inexperienced, and compensated for it by being arrogant and cold, as if never smiling made him appear older and more authoritative, instead of just seeming like a snob. Rufus thought the post of necromancer to the Third would have been far more pleasant if it didn't involve regular dealings with Laris Valerius Corvis.

They were close to the same age, in truth - Rufus was only twenty, and this was his first posting. But at least he knew enough to know he didn't know everything. He could admit when he made a mistake, and accept constructive guidance from his superiors. The trouble with Corvis was, he didn't truly have any superiors. Officially he reported to Anstitius Novus Sedatius, the Legate in charge of the Third Legion, but in practice, the older officer was inclined to let him do whatever he wanted, or so it seemed to Rufus anyway. He commanded one cohort of living troops, and one of undead, making use of his dragonmark to control the mindless undead soldiers, and his haughty, authoritative temperament to command the living. 

It helped to come from a family so illustrious and prominent that they claimed they were descended from the Raven Queen herself, Rufus supposed. His own family were wealthy too, but of a more middling status, and while he understood the social milieu Corvis no doubt came from, it was of a station he could only gaze upon. Not that he ever talked much about his family - Corvis didn't brag, or throw his name around like it was a cudgel to wield. He just always spoke as though he assumed everyone would listen to him and obey him without question. Rufus wasn't his inferior officer, though - as a necromancer, he was in an auxiliary support role, much like a medic or an engineer. And he didn't like being ordered around when he should have been consulted for his expertise. 

Besides, the other tribunes were more, well, fun. They were all young people from senatorial families, to be sure - the post was a stepping stone to greater things, and all of them had the right connections to allow them to obtain the rank - but most of them at least knew how to loosen up when they weren't on duty, to crack a joke or at least a smile. Corvis didn't socialize beyond the bare minimum required for politeness, and retreated to his tent whenever he could make his excuses. He had his own personal slave, a gnome who tended to his needs, and didn't mingle with his troops for mundane things such as meals or baths. 

Still, as time went on, Rufus had to admit that it was evident Corvis looked out for his soldiers. He wasn't uncaring of their needs - Rufus had observed on several occasions how he'd secured extra rations, repairs to vital equipment, and time for them to have some leave away from the front. It was exhausting, always being on call, never knowing when you might be attacked, and a break was generally appreciated even more than additional food or wages.

And Corvis was competent as a tactician. He wasn't shy to voice his opinions in strategy meetings, and more often than not, his ideas were the ones that wound up being turned into action. He didn't favour bold, showy charges like some of the other tribunes - while it might be a good way to make your name known and draw attention to yourself, it also risked getting more troops killed than was necessary. Corvis wasn't a flashy leader - he concentrated on securing supply lines, holding established boundaries, providing support to the ones who insisted on making those dramatic frontal assaults, and picking up the pieces afterwards. It wasn't glamorous, but it was necessary.

None of that made Rufus any more fond of him at a personal level, but it did help him to understand why the common soldiers respected him even though he was little more than a kid. He would tell them clearly what to do, make sure they got compensated properly for doing it, and at least try not to get them killed unnecessarily. It was more than could be said for a lot of officers, to be honest. 

It also meant that when things went wrong, it was doubly unexpected. The troops had been dispatched to the Dibbswood in order to deal with incursions from the orcish tribes there. It hadn't been Corvis' idea, Rufus noted, but directions from higher up the chain of command. He'd done as ordered, bending the rules just slightly where he thought he could, positioning the undead to serve as archers behind the rows of living infantry, and sending the cavalry around to flank them from the west. Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen. The plan, as the old saying went, did not survive engagement with the enemy. The cavalry were blocked by a wall of magical flames thrown up by the orcish shamans, while the infantry were routed by a charge from the orcish warriors that broke their lines.

Rufus was kept busy reinforcing the undead troops, but he heard from some of the injured that came in that Corvis was leading the retreat personally, that he had gone into the midst of the fighting and fended off one of the largest orc warriors with his pair of swords, that he had managed to secure the vanguard and get at least some of the infantry to safety. There were about fifty dead, but it could have been five hundred.

When they had retreated to a safe distance, and the orcs had fallen back to their own lairs, Corvis had a hasty camp erected. The soldiers were exhausted, with many among them injured, and they would need healing and rest - but also to guard against any ambush that might strike while they were weakened. Corvis stood on a broken tree stump to address the troops. "You fought valiantly today," he told them. Rufus could see a blood-stained bandage wrapped sloppily around his forearm, and could tell even from a distance that he looked drawn and weary. "This loss will be but a temporary one. Tomorrow we will retake the field, and this time we will not be pushed back." The soldiers' cheers were muted, but drowned out any grumbling that might have been heard. At that, Corvis stepped down and retreated into his tent.

Rufus pushed his way through the crowd to follow. He wouldn't normally intrude, but he needed to discuss what to do with the dead from the battle, the ones they'd been able to retrieve more or less intact at least. If they were going to be fighting again tomorrow, they would need all the help they could get, and potentially that included from the recently deceased.

The normal guards who would have been stationed outside Corvis' tent were nowhere to be seen - perhaps dispatched to more vital guard duties, or among the fallen themselves - so Rufus stepped inside, clearing his throat to let the tribune know he was there. He was more than a little shocked to find the normally stoic shadar-kai curled in a ball on his camp bed, his shoulders hitching in miserable little shudders. He thought about just turning around and leaving, but there was something painful about the sight that he couldn't just dismiss. "Tribune," he said quietly.

He hadn't wanted to startle Corvis, but despite his best efforts the officer sat up with a jerk, clearly trying to pull himself together. "Magus Auspex," he said, his voice hoarse. "What is it?"

"I, ah, I was hoping to discuss plans for tomorrow with you. I can come back if this is a bad time."

"There isn't going to be any better time," Corvis said bitterly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "What did you have to say?"

Rufus' best intentions and whatever entirely sensible things he had meant to say evaporated, and what came out instead was, "It wasn't your fault."

Corvis eyed him suspiciously. "I appreciate the platitudes, but it was. I was in command, and the results of the battle are therefore my responsibility."

"But that doesn't mean it was your _fault_ ," Rufus insisted. "Just because you were in charge doesn't mean you could have predicted what would happen, or the actions of every single individual. You did the best you could with the information you had."

"My information was inadequate, then," said Corvis, his shoulders hunched in misery.

"Stop being so damned selfish," Rufus replied, more sharply than he'd meant too. "There's plenty of blame to go around, and you don't get to have all of it."

Corvis looked up at him, silver eyes bright with tears. Then, to Rufus' surprise, he gave a soft, hiccuping chuckle that at first he didn't even recognize as laughter, it was so unexpected. It made him look younger, and more approachable - vulnerable, even. He came over and sat down on the bed beside him. Corvis winced away from him, avoiding contact with his bandaged arm. "Does it hurt?" Rufus asked.

"It's nothing serious," Corvis replied, holding it a bit self-consciously. "A glancing blow. The healers are more needed elsewhere."

Rufus couldn't really argue with that. There were soldiers moaning and screaming in the distance, and some would likely not last the night if they didn't receive aid. Still, the injury was obviously causing him discomfort. "Let me have a look," he said.

Corvis looked dubious. "You're a necromancer - I feel like I shouldn't trust your healing skills."

"Well, at least I can wrap it a little better than this mess," Rufus retorted. Corvis still hesitated, but let him examine it, unwrapping the stained and blood-encrusted strip of cloth with a wince. 

"What did you do, block a sword with your arm instead of your blade?" Rufus asked, examining the wound. It was a fairly deep gash, just above where his bracer would have covered, not the 'glancing blow' he had described.

"Something like that," Corvis replied dryly. "It didn't occur to me that was a bad idea until afterwards."

At least he understood sarcasm. "Back to basic training for you, then," said Rufus lightly. He stood up and, trying to ignore the awkward feeling that he was poking around in the tribune's private tent, managed to locate a pitcher of water and some clean cloths. "Don't you have a slave to take care of this kind of thing?" he said, bringing the supplies back over and crouching down on the ground beside Corvis' bed.

The tribune's gaze slid sideways. "I sent him to take a message back, about the battle... to tell Legate Sedatius about the losses we sustained."

Rufus dipped one of the cloths in the water and took Corvis' arm, trying to gently wipe away some of the dried blood and debris. "Well... that's very honest of you. Some would have waited until tomorrow to send a report, in the hopes that they could report a victory instead of a defeat."

"Even if we prevail tomorrow, it won't be a victory," Corvis said quietly. "It won't fix the mistakes that I made today."

"Again with 'your' mistakes," Rufus said, rolling his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're obnoxiously noble?"

"Once or twice," the tribune replied. He flinched as Rufus cleaned the torn and bruised skin. "They don't usually say it to my face," he added, looking aside. "But they have other ways of getting the message across."

It occurred to Rufus that it was entirely possible that Laris Valerius Corvis had no friends - that he was so stiff and serious because he'd never learned how to make friends with someone. There was something awkward and shy about him that Rufus hadn't noticed before, or perhaps that he hadn't been permitted to see until tonight. Maybe it had been there the entire time, beneath the surface, and he just hadn't looked for it. The tribune looked very young and vulnerable, sitting here on the edge of his bed while Rufus knelt in front of him, cleaning his injured arm, and... oh. Oh no. 

_Tribune Laris Valerius Corvis, well-known arrogant asshole and general stick in the mud, was extremely hot._

Rufus felt his face grow warm, and hoped Corvis wouldn't notice. Fortunately he seemed preoccupied with counting the threads of the blanket he was sitting on, and wasn't looking directly at Rufus. The necromancer tried to concentrate on finishing examining his injuries. "You need stitches," he said at last. "It's either that or magical healing, and you already said no to that."

Corvis nodded reluctantly. "Can you do that?"

"Well, I have considerable experience at sewing wounds closed - but the patients aren't usually in a position to complain about my skill," he said with a slight self-deprecating smile. "I can't guarantee it will look pretty, but I can do it."

"Very well," Corvis said. "If you need to get supplies, I can wait here."

Rufus stood up, brushing himself off. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Just lie down and try to rest."

"Yes, sir," the tribune said with the faintest hint of a smile. At that, Rufus had to turn around and leave very rapidly before he said something he would regret. 

Stepping out into the cool night air was a relief. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he was pretty sure that it was inappropriate under the circumstances. Maybe it was a mix of the adrenaline rush from earlier in the day wearing off, leading to a general lightheaded state of exhaustion, combined with stress about the battle that would no doubt resume in the morning. He hadn't had any dinner either. That was probably why he was imagining various creative ways to make Corvis' icy exterior crack and melt...

He retrieved his sewing supplies from his tent, and made his way back across the camp, trying to decide what he would do when he arrived. The idea of patching up the tribune before pulling him into his arms for a kiss, followed by a night of passionate 'we could die tomorrow' sex, was strongly appealing, and also tragically unrealistic. For one thing, he probably still needed to raise a considerable number of fresh soldiers before morning. For another, there was every chance that if he tried a dramatic move to sweep Corvis off his feet, the tribune would haul back and punch him with his good arm, and/or file paperwork to have him reassigned. More likely the latter, but it would be incredibly embarrassing either way. He would go in, stitch up Corvis' arm, and ask him what to do about the dead soldiers. Then, depending on his answer, he would either go and start work, or maybe, if he was lucky, try to catch a few hours of sleep.

Corvis was following his instructions and lying down when he slipped back into the tent. For a moment Rufus actually wondered if he might have fallen asleep, or into a trance at least - his eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly and evenly. But he stirred when he heard Rufus return, and opened his eyes. "You came back," he said, like he was a little bit surprised.

"Well... of course," Rufus replied. He busied himself by grabbing a low stool and coming over to sit at the edge of the camp bed, setting up his supplies. "We need you in fighting form again tomorrow. What kind of an aide would I be if I didn't help get you patched up?"

Corvis shrugged. "You must have other things to do."

"Yes, and I'll talk to you about that afterwards. For now, just lie there and brace yourself. This isn't going to be pleasant."

It wasn't, but Corvis gritted his teeth and they got through it together. When Rufus was satisfied that he'd done as much as he could, he wrapped the freshly stitched wound in clean bandages and hoped it wouldn't fester. "Get one of the proper healers to check it if it starts to feel hot or swollen, all right?" He bit his tongue trying not to say that if anything else got hot and swollen, he would definitely take care of it.

Fortunately, Corvis seemed oblivious to his poorly-suppressed attempts at innuendo. It was probably the pain, although also possible he was just generally oblivious to that kind of thing. "I will," he said. He hesitated long enough that Rufus started to clean up his equipment and pack it away, just to have something to fill the silence. "Thank you," he said at last, as though the words were unfamiliar and strange to him.

"It's no trouble," Rufus told him. "Do you feel up to discussing plans for tomorrow, or do you want me to leave you to rest?"

"I think I can manage," Corvis said, as he struggled into a sitting position. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Supplementing the undead troops with the fallen soldiers," Rufus said grimly. "I wanted to ask what you thought." 

Corvis grimaced in discomfort or displeasure. "They signed up to fight for Thantopolis. If they can continue to serve this way..."

Rufus nodded, seeing the practicality in what he said, even if he would have preferred to preserve the bodies for transport home to their families instead. But another thought occurred to him. "I can use the enemy dead first, we managed to salvage some of those. I'm not sure how many I'll be able to raise before morning anyway. I'll do what I can."

"Yes," Corvis agreed, "use the orc corpses first. Get some rest too, if you have a chance," he added. "You won't be much use tomorrow if you're falling over."

"Neither will you," Rufus retorted, "and you're a little more important. So lie back down and try to rest - doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," Corvis pointed out, but he laid down anyway.

"Don't get smart with me," Rufus said, as he might deal with one of his brothers who was being difficult. "I'll see you in the morning."

On the following day, Rufus hadn't slept a wink, but he did have twenty extra undead - mostly former orcs - to bolster their ranks. Tribune Corvis mustered the troops early, and, before the sun was fully up, had them once again in formation, ready for battle. What remained of the cavalry, he sent off to the east, into the rocky hills, and Rufus wasn't sure where they were going to end up. The orcs lurked at the edge of the forest, knowing that its branches gave them a measure of protection against the archers, yelling and taunting for the Thantopolitan soldiers to come closer, but Corvis held them back to a safe distance and waited. Instead, he signalled for Rufus and the other casters to send the undead soldiers forward.

The troops, a mix of zombies and skeletons, marched onto the field, swords drawn. They were not highly trained soldiers - some having only been raised a few hours before - but Corvis directed them skillfully nevertheless, and they obeyed his commands competently enough. Seeing some of their dead among the ranks was enough to draw out the orcs - presumably this treatment violated whatever barbaric funeral rites they practiced - and they charged. Corvis waited, allowing them to decimate the undead troops, and then gave another signal. The living soldiers took up the bows that the undead had left behind and fired into the melee. Their arrows probably struck as many of the undead as they did the living orcs, but it made little matter at this point - the orcs hadn't expected the rain of arrows, and many of them were wounded. Some turned to flee, causing further confusion in their ranks, and Corvis signalled for the cavalry, who were waiting to pick off those that ran. 

Their shamans once again tried the trick with the wall of fire, but this time the Thantopolitan troops were better prepared for it. The cavalry were able to circumvent it and one, with a lucky blow, disrupted their ritual, which was enough to scatter their casters and send them into retreat. Rufus manage to spot Corvis in the middle of the fray, just for a moment, before the tide of battle swept him past and out of sight.

When they were finished mopping up the stragglers, Rufus made a point to check on the tribune. "How's your arm?" he asked when he finally caught up with him.

"Tolerable," Corvis replied. He was stained with blood, but mostly it didn't seem to be his own. "A somewhat more successful day today, thanks to your troops."

"Oh come on, Corvis," Rufus said with a smile. "You'll take credit for a defeat but not for a victory? This was your battle, and you won it."

A thin smile crossed the tribune's lips. "It was a combined effort. But... thank you."

Damn. Rufus had hoped it might have been a passing delusion, brought on by stress and lack of sleep, but he was wrong. The tribune was still hot, even covered in sweat and blood from the battle - actually if anything, that helped. Still, Rufus wasn't nearly brave enough to suggest that a bath might be in order, and that he'd be happy to assist if desired. Instead, he just said, "I'm going to go collapse now if that's alright."

"Permission granted, Magus Auspex," Corvis said, with a more wholehearted smile that somehow managed to break through his icy exterior. Yes, Rufus thought as he walked away, the tribune was going to be a problem - just not in the way he'd expected.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
